


Dream A Little Dream Of Me

by allthebeautifulthings9828



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel, Blow Jobs, Dominant Castiel, Dream Sex, Light Dom/sub, M/M, POV Dean Winchester, Sub Dean, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-20
Updated: 2013-09-20
Packaged: 2017-12-27 02:39:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/973315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthebeautifulthings9828/pseuds/allthebeautifulthings9828
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean passes out in a drunken stupor one night and stumbles into a sex dream. It's all quite ordinary until the blue-eyed woman suddenly turns into the angel Castiel. And the more possessive Castiel gets, the more Dean wants it, until he wakes up and realizes what happened. Was it an accidental dream or something arranged?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dream A Little Dream Of Me

When it happened, Dean sank deeply into a drunken stupor. He passed out across his bed in the motel room, his head dangling backwards off the edge and his mouth gaping wide. It wasn't so unusual to dream about sex when he was drunk, of course. Hell, it wasn't so unusual to dream about sex when he was sober either.

A beautiful woman materialized in that first dream. A length of silky dark hair hung down her back and she smirked at him with full lips and twinkling blue eyes. There was a term for plump lips like hers.

Just thinking it sent her to her knees as if obeying a wordless command. All right, he could get used to that! Her fingers deftly unzipped his jeans and tugged them down far enough, along with his boxers, to free his cock, already hardening with anticipation. Dean licked his lips and so did she. Her blue eyes peered at him knowingly through her lashes as the softest pink tongue flicked over the head of his cock. His body tensed with the tease. And in the dream state, a little flick of a tongue felt a hundred times stronger than in the waking world.

He groaned and leaned back as his cock became engulfed by her mouth sucking along his length in all the right places. Hands slid up and down the backs of his thighs, occasionally cupping his ass. The hot wetness slicked his cock, and fuck  _yes_ , he got into it even when something rough about her chin scratched his balls. It didn't matter. Closer and closer, God  _yes_ , his hips fucked that mouth as the tingling collected around the base of his spine and heat tensed up his gut. _  
_

Dean rolled his head forward again with the desire to watch himself come, but as he looked down, it wasn't the woman anymore.

Castiel.

Castiel naked.

Castiel naked and on his knees working Dean's cock in his mouth.

Momentarily horrified, Dean's eyes snapped shut and he realized he was dreaming. He tried to get the woman back. He was  _supposed_ to get the woman back and fuck her until she screamed his name. But Castiel didn't stop, even in his dream. He switched it up, pulling his mouth away and wrapping his meaty, calloused, yet warm and inviting hand around Dean's cock. The jerking motions, flicks of his skillful wrist, brought ragged groans and sharp gasps from the hunter.

"Do I please you, Dean?" murmured dream-Castiel.

Dumbly, Dean nodded and reopened his eyes. He found Castiel looking back at him through round blue eyes darkened with control and the lust of taking ownership.

"You're mine now. You always were. Do you understand?" The ordinarily gravelly tone in Castiel's natural voice plummeted to a depth that caressed places in Dean that he hadn't felt before. And to enforce that ownership, Castiel's full lips spread sloppy, incoherent kisses in a line across Dean's hipbone. "Answer me, Dean." Hot breath puffed his skin with the words.

The eagerness to obey stunned Dean, as did the overwhelming desire to be controlled and made to obey the angel. "Oh, shit, Cas. Yes,  _yes_."

It wasn't so much obedience as it was the babbling of a man teetering on the edge of an orgasm. Castiel saw it happening, rewarding Dean for his compliance, and his cock steadily disappeared into the angel's mouth. Muscles quaking and nerve endings on fire, the force of coming with that kind of ferocity nearly buckled his knees. He tore at a fistful of Castiel's slightly overgrown hair as bursts of come shot into his mouth, which he took without wavering at all.

Consciousness crashed over him as abruptly as coming in his dream and his body flung awake in the middle of tangled bedsheets. Alone. Almost alone. Light snoring in the other bed indicated Sam's presence as Dean squinted and sat upright on the mattress.

What the fuck just happened?

Embarrassed, uncomfortable, but mostly angry at himself for adding another layer of confusion to his bond with Castiel, he glanced down at the sticky wet spot on the sheets. Yeah, it happened all right, at least in his dream. He couldn't even remember what the girl looked like either. It was almost as if she never existed, never mattered.

Quickly, Dean covered the evidence with a blanket in case Sam woke while he was in the shower. He stumbled to the bathroom and scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to pull it together, but blue eyes and full lips repeatedly popped up in his mind. This wasn't right. It wasn't supposed to be happening. A dream was just a dream, of course, but it unnerved Dean in some place within himself that he couldn't comprehend. He couldn't go there. He wasn't that guy.

Bending over the sink, he collected water from the faucet and splashed it over his face. That felt better. He allowed himself a soothing breath.

"Hello, Dean."

The lightning bolt of that voice shot straight through Dean's spine and he stood upright, eyes wide, heart pounding. Castiel's reflection greeted him in the mirror. The tan trenchcoat, the baggy suit, the backwards loose tie - everything seemed in order.

"Are you ever gonna learn to knock, man?" Dean attempted passing it off casually as he turned to the towel rack and dried his face.

"There are more important matters at hand, Dean," he replied.

Good, good. Keep talking in that monotone voice and missing all semblance of human sarcasm. Dean felt things returning to normal, the deeply wrong images receding back into his subconscious.

"What's up?"

"I believe I've found Raphael's storage of weapons, but getting to it requires interaction with humans," he explained, slight inadequacy shadowing his eyes. "I require your help. Are you and Sam occupied with another case?"

"No, just wrapped it up last night," Dean said. "You can't just mojo the stuff out of there yourself?"

"I want you. Can you come or not?"

Dean nearly choked on his toothbrush with those words. He meant it innocently, of course, but the timing couldn't have been worse. His knees loosened for a split-second. Everything in his subconscious rushed forward in a victory march around his brain as if laughing and pointing at his apparent weird angel fetish. He spit toothpaste into the sink and wiped his mouth, ordering himself to quit the bullshit.

"Answer me, Dean," he said in a shade darker. The angel's eyes darkened as well, faintly, perhaps imperceptive to anyone else.

Frozen, Dean's stomach dropped. His cock stirred with sleepy interest as well, though he pressed his waist into the bathroom counter to try and correct it.

The faintest smile twitched Castiel's plump mouth. " _Answer me_ , Dean."


End file.
